Father of Mine
by ReluctantSlashFan
Summary: What if Sheriff Stilinski found proof that Derek wasn't exactly alone. -No SLASH for obvious reasons.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, first off I want to apologize ahead of time for this cliched plot. I know it's been done to death, in several different fandoms, but I just can't seem to shake this plot bunny, so it's being written anyway.**

**Anyway, for the purposes of this story, I have named Stiles' dad Jack. To me, he looks like a Jack, and as funny as it would be to see his name really be 'Sheriff' I have a feeling he actually has a name. I'll most likely be wrong, but oh well.**

**So, thanks for reading. If y'all want a second chapter let me know, and if not well I'll just mark this as complete and let you guys speculate.**

**I do not own these characters!**

**P.S. For the purposes of this story, Stiles' dad is in his mid-forties. I'm not sure how old they've made him in the show, so I am using creative license.**

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Jack Stilinski hated grocery shopping. Actually he hated shopping in general, but shopping for groceries reminded him of his wife, and sometimes it was almost unbearable to wander through the store, remembering how she would drag him down every aisle just because it annoyed him. Talia had this habit of comparing ingredients, prices, brands, and overall quality and then asking 'what do you think?' It usually didn't matter what he said to the contrary, she'd eventually get the brand she preferred, but it was a thing that they shared, and he continued to allow himself to be dragged to the store, every third Thursday, because he loved his wife and it made her happy. He would have done anything to make her happy. Sometimes he still couldn't believe she was really gone.

Usually, Stiles would do the grocery shopping, and come home with bags full of that organic crap that Jack despised, but his son was on some class trip with the rest of the juniors, and wouldn't be back until the end of the week. So, that Tuesday afternoon, Jack found himself wandering the aisles, trying to stop himself from associating every aisle, every item with Talia, but to no avail. It was almost as bad as sitting around his empty house, but, at least at the grocery store, there weren't pictures of Talia covering the walls, or small touches of her scattered around each room. He didn't have to see the ghastly painting she wanted to buy even though she swore, up and down, it clashed with the décor. _'There's just **something** about it…_'

Jack was jolted back to reality when he collided with someone. Shaking his head to clear it, Sheriff Stilinski's eyes settled on a familiar face, a pair of blue/green eyes watching him with a mixture of wariness and curiosity.

"Sorry," Jack apologized and received a nod from Derek. He should have just left it at that, but he knew Derek and Stiles were sorta friends, and it wasn't going to do him any good avoiding the kid. He had been the one to arrest him, back when they thought he had killed his sister. Some of the deputies still believed he did, but Jack just didn't buy it. In fact, he never fully believed Derek did it in the first place. Some part of him just couldn't believe he could do something like that; like with the painting, there was just _something_ about the kid.

So, the sheriff glanced at the basket in Derek's hand, taking in the six pack of soda, a box of graham crackers, three Hersey bars, and some marshmallows and said, "Having a party or something?"

"What?" Derek glanced at the items in his basket and shook his head. "No, uh…" something akin to unease crossed the kid's face and he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm…" his locked on the floor, and for a second Jack was reminded of Stiles when he was caught doing something that reminded him of his mother.

It took him a moment to remember what day it was, and he nodded in understanding. "Is that for Laura?"

"She liked…" Derek bit his lip, still refusing to look at Jack. "Yeah," he muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

"Stiles and I have root beer floats on the anniversary of his mother's death," Jack confided, figuring the kid needed something to ease his discomfort. "She called them her guilty pleasure."

"S'mores and soda was Laura's," Derek muttered looking up, a small smile crossing his face. It was the first time Jack had seen the kid smile and it made quite a difference from his usual scowl. When he smiled, Derek looked younger, less burdened. He also reminded Jack of someone he had known in college, a few years before he met Stiles' mother. Someone he hadn't thought about in, what felt like, a million years.

"Yeah," Jack stated softly, giving Derek a forced smile.

The kid must have sensed something had changed, his smile dropping. He swung his basket awkwardly, hooked a thumb behind him, and said, "I should probably go."

"Yeah," the sheriff repeated nodding, still trying to shake the image of a dark haired, blue eyed girl. Why did Derek remind him of her?

"See you around," the kid said slowly, eyeing Jack cautiously, and walked away, sparing a single glance over his shoulder. Jack waited until Derek was out of sight before abandoning his cart and rushing towards the exit. He had to get home, check something out, just to be sure.

**TW**

It had been years since he had looked through his old college stuff (and he didn't even want to think about his high school days), but they were still in the attic, in the box neatly marked, in Talia's handwriting, _Jack's Glory Days._ Taking a second to admire his wife's sense of humor, and compare their son to her, he collected the box and left the attic.

He carried the box to the kitchen table, setting it down on the surface, and flipped it open. He began searching through the contents, brushing past old awards, his old lacrosse uniform, and some odds and ends from high school and college. He eventually found an old tin box, at the bottom, and gently lifted it out of the box.

Slowly, he opened the top, listening to the old and rusted hinges creak slightly, and looked down at the contents. There was an old, wrinkled, faded ticket stub from some movie, an I.D. bracelet that said 'Marina's guy,' a golden locket that, if Jack remembered correctly, contained a picture of a kissing couple, and a few other odds and ends. None of that mattered to him at that moment. What mattered was an old drawing, drawn by some artist at a carnival.

It was folded, hidden underneath everything else. Jack slowly took it out and carefully unfolded it, trying to avoid tearing it. He set it on the table, smoothing it out, and looked down at the couple in the picture.

The young man resembled Stiles, if the kid had bluish/green eyes, instead of brown, and long, blond hair. The guy had his arm around a dark haired, blue eyed girl. She was smiling slightly, enough to make her look younger than her twenty-two years. And the smile looked familiar, really familiar. It matched Derek's to a T.

Jack got to his feet, heading into his office. He dug out the copy of Derek's arrest record and carried it back to the table. Sitting down again, Jack set the page on top of the drawing, scanning it for a date of birth. His eyes zeroed in on the line, his eyebrows furrowing at the month and year.

He did some quick calculations, his stomach clenching as stuff started falling into place. She had broken up with him a month before graduation with no explanation and then spent the majority of the time avoiding him. Her roommate wouldn't tell him where she was, she wouldn't take his calls, and for the longest time he had thought it was something he had done. But what if it was something else? Some mistake that she hid from him, so she wasn't locking him into anything?

Jack leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, shock settling down around him. There was a chance, a very slim chance that he had…? Could he be…?

No, he was jumping to conclusions. It could easily be a coincidence; a very strange, weird, unlikely coincidence. He just had to confront the kid, get confirmation that he didn't know Her. Her last name wasn't even Hale for cripes sake; it was Shaw.

_She could have put him up for adoption,_ a small voice said, in the back of his head, but he shot that whim down fairly quickly. He had seen pictures of Derek's uncle Peter and the rest of the Hales that burnt to death in the fire. He had seen the similarities; Derek was definitely a Hale.

Getting to his feet, snatching his keys off the table, Jack started towards the door. He had to get to the bottom of this before jumping to anymore conclusions, and the only way to do that was to go and talk to Derek.


	2. Chapter 2

**I found a couple things I missed in this chapter, so I'm re-updating it. Sorry.**

**Still don't own 'em.**

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Derek used to love the quiet. He'd sit in the dark, surrounded by white noise, for hours on end. Sometimes he'd read, sometimes he'd just sit there, but it had to be quiet and he had to be alone. Now, after almost a year surrounded by his pack, he was actually missing the noise.

He missed Erica complaining about the fact that he only had one working bathroom in the manor (he was working on getting the rest fixed up, but lately he didn't have the time). He missed Boyd and Jackson's constant shouting as they sparred out back. He missed Isaac and Scott arguing as they played cards in the dining room. He missed Stiles wandering around the half-finished house, rambling on, randomly cleaning everything, and insisting he buy healthier food every time he looked in the cupboards. He even missed Lydia and Alison bringing him random paint samples or those girly magazines, insisting he pick bright colors to liven up the house. They may have only been teenagers to the outside world, but to him they were his pack, his family.

His missed their chatter, their constant presence, them. Of course, he was a long way from admitting any to that to them, though sometimes he wondered if Stiles hadn't already figured it out. The kid was too damn perceptive for his own good.

He was sitting in the living room, sprawled out on the secondhand sofa Erica and Boyd picked out, staring at the ceiling. He wouldn't admit he was bored, but he wasn't exactly having fun either. Derek figured he could always track down Peter, but the day he willingly agreed to hang around his uncle would be the day he decided he no longer needed teeth.

Thinking of Peter made his mind wander to Laura. It was one year today that his sister's body had been found, in the woods, after she was brutally murdered by Peter and mutilated by Kate Argent. Later that night, he planned to make s'mores in her honor, out back, over a fire he planned to build in an old fire pit the boys and him dug a while ago. His sister was a healthy eater usually, picking up the habit from their father, but she could never deny a s'more.

Derek tried to remember his sister when she was alive, and not as he buried her. Before his pack, she was the last person he trusted, and when she died, he swore to never trust anyone ever again. He was such a damn liar.

He suddenly straightened up, very much aware of a car approaching his house. Cautiously he got off the couch, moving towards a window. He peered out the window, watching as Sheriff Stilinski's car creeped up the path. He parked next to Derek's Camaro, but made no moves to actually get out of his car.

Derek studied the older man, sensing the apprehension and uncertainty oozing off of him. He was struggling with something, something big, and Derek would be lying if he said he wasn't a little intrigued. Had he found some of Stiles' research? No, Derek had a feeling he'd be sensing a few more emotions if that had been the case. Maybe he thought Stiles was…

"Really," he muttered shaking his head. They were not, nor will they ever be, a couple. Derek didn't see the loud mouthed, fast talking teen that way. In fact, if they had any type of relationship, they were more like brothers than anything else. It also didn't help that Stiles reminded Derek of his cousin Marty. Maybe that was why Derek spent so much time trying to save Stiles, to keep him from having the same fate as Marty.

Whatever the reason the sheriff was doing there, Derek knew he had to either confront the man or hide upstairs until he went away. As tempting as the latter sounded, he knew the former was the most logical choice. So, with a sigh, he moved towards the door and pulled it open.

As he stepped outside, he noticed the sheriff getting out of his car. The older man looked up at the sound of the door, freezing halfway out of his seat. For a brief moment, the two just studied each other, and Derek sensed acceptance replace the apprehension and uncertainty. Sheriff Stilinski nodded, pulled the rest of his body out of his car, and closed the door.

"Hey," he greeted Derek as he slowly headed towards his porch.

"Hey," Derek repeated cautiously. "Can I help you?"

"I wanted to ask you a question," the sheriff stated slowly, his eyes locked on something just over Derek's shoulder, apprehension creeping back up, fighting the acceptance for control.

"Okay."

"Do you…?" he didn't want to ask, Derek could tell, but the older man pushed on anyway. "Were there any…?" With a frustrated sigh, his eyes met Derek's and he finally managed to say, "Were there any Shaws in your family?"

The question caught Derek by surprise. He hadn't heard that name in years, not since his grandmother died. He knew it was her maiden name, and that he had an aunt who went by that last name. Unfortunately, he never met his Aunt Marina. She died a few months after he was born. Why was Stiles' father suddenly interested in his family history?

"Why?" Derek asked suspiciously.

"There were a few, weren't there?" the sheriff countered, obviously reading something on Derek's face. He didn't need wolf hearing to know when someone was lying or withholding information, he dealt with liars on a daily basis.

"Why?" Derek repeated really wanting this conversation to end. He didn't talk about his family to anyone, not even his pack, and he sure as hell wasn't talking about them to someone he barely even knew; he didn't care whose father he was or what he did for a living.

"Marina Shaw? Did you know her?" the sheriff pressed, ignoring Derek's question.

"Why do you need to know?" Derek demanded, clenching his hands into fists. He was getting angry; these questions were getting on his nerves. He took a few deep breaths, willing his claws to stay where they belonged. When he had control again, he calmly stated, "I don't think it's any of your business." He turned to go back inside, slowly moving towards the door, throwing over his shoulder, "I think you should leave."

"Derek, I…"

"Please, just…"

"I think I'm your father."

Those five words stopped Derek in his tracks. He slowly turned to face the sheriff again, his eyebrows furrowed. "What did you say?" he asked slowly, eyeing the man cautiously.

"I think I'm your father," the sheriff repeated, and Derek listened hard as he spoke each word. He waited for a skipped heart beat, a hitched breath, something to tell him that the older man was lying, but there was nothing. He was telling the truth, or what he believed to be the truth.

"T-that's not possible," Derek said softly, shaking his head, his fists unclenching. It didn't matter what Sheriff Stilinski thought, he wasn't his son. His father's name was Nathan Hale.

"I knew Marina in college," the older man continued. "We dated for a while, nothing special, and we probably never would have ended up married, but we were young, thought we were in love, and then one day she broke up with me."

"Why are you…?"

"She wouldn't answer my calls, she wasn't at her dorm. She just wouldn't talk to me. And for a while I thought it was because I did something."

"I still don't…"

"But I think it was something else. Today, in the grocery store, when you smiled, you reminded me of her. And I don't mean in the 'he looks like a long lost relative' way either. You really, really reminded me of her."

"What are you…?"

"I think you're her son… and mine. Maybe, maybe she was killed when you were young or something and asked her brother to raise you. I still don't know why she needed to hide you from…"

"Listen up," Derek finally snapped, cutting the older man off, his voice deathly calm even though fury was rolling through his veins. "My parents were Nathan and Marlow Hale. Marina Shaw was an aunt I never met that died a few months after I was born. I don't know who told you this, this messed up theory, but it's not true, okay? So just get the hell off my property."

He abruptly turned on his heel and stalked into the house, slamming the door behind him. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes, breathing heavily. He listened as the sheriff sighed and walked back towards his car. The door closed, the engine turned over, and the sheriff drove away. It wasn't until the sound of tires had faded that Derek finally opened his eyes, both slowly returning to their natural color. It surprised him a little. The last time he lost control like that, he had been sixteen.

He couldn't believe what Sheriff Stilinski had told him; he wouldn't believe it. He had two parents, two very loving, very supportive parents. He had a sister he loved more than anything in the world. He wasn't going to let those memories get tarnished because someone fed a police officer some cock and bull story.

But what if it was true? Doubt and uncertainty rolled through him, and he began questioning his life. Was he really Nathan and Marlow's son? Marina did die a few months after he was born. He was never quite sure how she was killed, but he always suspected it was the hunters. The hunters stole another mother from him; how convenient.

Frustration rolled through him and he clenched his hands at his sides again. He shouldn't even be considering it because it wasn't true. She was his aunt, just his aunt, nothing more.

_But is she? Really?_ A small voice, sounding almost exactly like Laura, said in the back of his head.

_Yes,_ he insisted trying to push the voice down.

_But think it through… _the voice insisted in a sing song tone.

_No because it's __**not**__ true._

_ As much as I hate to suggest it, maybe you should ask Peter._

He wasn't going ask Peter. He didn't _need_ Peter. He wasn't going to waste gas and energy trying to track down his uncle.

**TW**

Ten minutes later he was on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel, looking for Peter. He couldn't believe he was even doing this, he shouldn't be doing this, but he wanted to know; a part of him _needed_ to know; even if the answer wasn't what he wanted. That is, if he could believe whatever came out of Peter's lying, murdering mouth. Lucky for him, he had a built in lie detector.

He eventually tracked his uncle down at an old dog park. By the smell of the park, dogs hadn't frequented the place in many years. Derek wasn't sure why Peter came here, and he really didn't care (just as long as his uncle wasn't murdering anyone else).

He found the older man sitting on a bench, his elbows resting in on his knees, staring at the ground. Slowly, Derek walked towards his uncle, eyeing him cautiously. He knew the older man was aware of his presence, but a part of Derek wished he hadn't been. What he wouldn't give to be able to attack his uncle, re-kill him.

"Still hate me? That's original," Peter snarked, keeping his eyes locked on the ground. Derek didn't say anything, he merely sat at the far end of the bench, as far away from his uncle as possible. "Oh, c'mon Derek, you _know_ what today is. We should be there for each other. I cared for Laura just as much…"

Derek snorted humorlessly, shaking his head, and snapped, "Don't pretend you cared about Laura. If you did, you wouldn't have killed her."

"I'm not going to explain myself to you, again," Peter stated softly. "Besides," the older Alpha looked up, his blue eyes settling on his nephew, "you aren't here to talk about your sister anyway. What, dear nephew, are you doing looking for me?"

"I shouldn't have even bothered…" Derek tried to get to his feet, but Peter grabbed his arm and forced him back onto the bench. Derek was too surprised to fight back, his elbow smashing into the back of the bench. His arm went numb for a second but feeling quickly returned as the bruise healed. "Don't ever do that again," he snarled, wrenching his arm out of Peter's grasp, his eyes flashing red.

"That won't work on me," Peter retorted easily, leaning back into the bench. "Now, what did you want to ask me?"

This was stupid. He shouldn't be there, sitting next to Peter, even considering this. He knew who his parents were. Why did he even care if they weren't his biological parents? He shouldn't care.

_Because it could mean you're not completely alone,_ Laura's voice reminded him. _Come on, Der, don't you want to know?_

He sucked in a deep breath, slowly let it out, and asked, "What can you tell me about Aunt Marina?"

"Why are you suddenly interested in her?" Peter questioned carefully, eyeing his nephew curiously. "You've never met her, never talked to her. She's basically nothing to you."

"Don't talk down to me," Derek said softly, glaring at his uncle. "Just answer my question."

"She was the oldest," Peter replied after a short pause. "She was also loud, boisterous, liked to flirt with all the boys. Our parents couldn't control her, and sometimes I wondered if our mother wanted her controlled. She went off to college the moment she graduated high school, said she was going to get out, see the world."

"Is that it?" A part of him wanted to be angry at how nonchalant and cold Peter was being as he talked about his sister, but he had long since gotten used to Peter's heartlessness. There wasn't much he could do about his uncle, and he wasn't going to try to change the older man.

"No, she turned up a few months after she graduated college, said she needed help. Your parents took her in, even though they had Laura at the time. No one asked her why she'd forgone her plans, and she didn't offer anything up in return. Then, about a year after moving in with your parents, she was caught by a group of hunters and cut in half."

Derek tried really hard not to flinch, focusing on the fact that his uncle was keeping something from him. Something important, something that could confirm what had already been thrown at him. He met Peter's eyes and slowly said, "I'm only going to ask this once. If you lie to me, I'm going to throw you into that lake." He jerked his head towards the body of water, halfway across the park. "Do I make myself clear?"

"You can try," Peter retorted with a smirk, but still nodded.

"W-was Marina p-pregnant when she returned home?" Derek struggled to get the question out, he was certain he tripped over a few of the words, but he knew the question hit home when he noticed his uncle's eyes widen just a smidgen. "She was, wasn't she?"

"Derek, how did…?"

"What happened to the baby, Peter? What happened to it after she died? I'm assuming she had it, I'm assuming she named it, and I'm assuming it went to you or my parents. So, what happened to it?" Peter neglected to answer and frustration washed over Derek. "Was it me? Am I her baby? And don't lie to me because I'll know. You know I'll know."

"Derek, you need to understand…"

He wasn't denying it. He was trying his hardest _not_ to answer the question, but Peter was not denying it. Numbly, Derek stood up and walked away from the older Alpha, ignoring Peter as he called his name. Sheriff Stilinski had been right. He _was _Marina's son. It didn't confirm he was also the sheriff's, but it was a possibility.

He had been lied to his whole life by the two people he was supposed to love and trust unconditionally. Why hadn't they told him? Didn't they think he could handle it? They should have told him, his parents… Nathan and Marlow _should_ have told him.

He wasn't sure where he was headed, he just started driving. It was a while later that he found himself sitting outside the Stilinski residence, looking blankly up at the house. Should he go inside or should he leave? Both sounded far better than heading back to the Hale manor, back to where he spent sixteen years being lied to, and the past two trying to keep himself alive.

He almost left, very nearly started his car and took off again, but he knew he had to confront the older man. He had to apologize for his attitude, and perhaps figure out just how certain he was about… about him being… He just had to go inside.

With a heavy sigh, he opened his door. He pulled his keys from the ignition, shut his door, and slowly walked towards the front door. Twice he almost headed back to his car, but he forced himself to keep moving. Eventually, he was standing by the door, his hand hovering in the air to knock.

His fist connected with the wood twice, each knock echoing in the air. Derek waited, breath held, and nearly turned around again, but the door swung open before he could. Sheriff Stilinski stood in the doorway, arms crossed, studying him, no doubt waiting for him to say something.

"I wanted to talk…" Derek started, and the sheriff stepped aside to allow him access to his house. The werewolf sucked in a deep breath and moved forward, stepping over the threshold, listening to the door close behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**There's some Derek angst ahead. Just a fair warning.**

**Thanks for the reviews and alerts last chapter, I hope you enjoy this, and happy holidays :)**

**Drop me a comment, I still don't own 'em, and enjoy**

**See ya**

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"Have a seat," Jack said gesturing to his couch. He grabbed the remote off the coffee table, turning Sport's Center off, and lightly tossed it back on the table, sinking down into his recliner.

Derek lingered awkwardly in the living room's entryway for a moment, but finally nodded and moved across the room. He slowly lowered himself onto the couch cushions, sitting on the edge, looking as if he were about to bolt any second.

"So," Jack started, running his palms down his thighs and resting his hands on his knees, "you wanted to talk?"

Derek nodded, but otherwise didn't say anything. His fingers were absentmindedly tapping against his legs, his eyes flicking around the room but never resting on Jack. The kid was nervous, fidgety, and again the sheriff was reminded of Stiles; albeit a much quieter, more subdued Stiles.

"Can I get you something…?"

"How sure are you?" Derek asked suddenly, cutting the older man off, his voice soft, his eyes settling on the blank television screen.

"The dates matched," Jack replied after a brief pause. "According to your records-" he made sure _not_ to mention the word 'arrest,' but he had a feeling Derek knew exactly what he was talking about, "-you were born in December of 1989. Marina broke up with me in May, meaning she had to be about two months pregnant at the time." Sheriff Stilinski leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and said, "Look, I know you don't really believe…"

"I think I'm starting to," Derek murmured looking down at his hands. Several emotions flashed across his face, but they were gone before Jack could identify them.

The room fell into a heavy silence. Jack wanted so badly to ask what changed the kid's mind, but he had a feeling Derek wouldn't tell him. He searched for something to say, needing to break the awful silence, and opted to ask, "Would you like to see a picture of her?"

Mutely, Derek nodded and Jack stood up, moving towards the dining room. He grabbed the drawing, he had been looking at earlier, off the table, and carried it back into the living room. "Marina didn't like having her photo taken," he explained handing the picture over. "She said they never came out right." Derek took it with a nod, something akin to understanding briefly crossing his face.

He glanced down at the picture, several more emotions crossing his face. Jack was able to catch a few: sorrow, longing, a hint of anger, but one caught him by surprise; one Jack was certain he wasn't going to see: recognition. Sheriff Stilinski opened his mouth to ask if maybe Derek had seen a photo of Marina sometime in the past, but before the words could leave his mouth Derek dropped the drawing, bounded to his feet, and bolted for the door.

"Derek!" Jack called, jumping up and chasing after him, but when he reached the open door, Derek was gone. It surprised Jack, and he wondered how the kid could move so fast, especially since his Camaro was still parked out front.

With a heavy sigh, Jack closed the door and slowly walked back to the living room. He picked the drawing up, off the floor, and set it on the coffee table. Studying the picture, he thought about the past few minutes. He hadn't been expecting a father/son hug or anything, but he also hadn't been expecting Derek to bolt like that either. Jack didn't know the kid well, but from the few times he had talked to him, he had gotten the sense that Derek liked to face his problems head-on.

There was a chance Derek was attempting to face this on his own. Jack did sense a great amount of pride in the kid, something he was guilty of from time to time, and something he _knew_ Stiles was guilty of most of the time. _Perhaps it was the Stilinski genes at work_, he thought with a smirk.

His smirk morphed into worry as the parental side of him took over. If Derek was his son, his oldest, he couldn't very well let him deal with this on his own. He had to help out somehow, even if he was just there for moral support.

However, Jack also knew he couldn't hover, couldn't force his presence on Derek. He was dealing with a lot, and having his long, lost father butting into his problems could very well do more harm than good. Like with Stiles, he was just going to have to wait until Derek came to him. Of course, recently Stiles hadn't been coming to him with his problems, either.

"Screw it," he muttered moving towards the front door, grabbing his keys off the hook. He was going to check on Derek whether he wanted him there or not. He just had to find him first which shouldn't be too much of a problem...

God, he was such a liar.

**TW**

The cemetery's caretaker usually locked the gates after sunset, but Derek easily scaled it and landed lightly on the other side. He slowly walked across the graveyard, burying his hands in his pockets, trying to forget Marina Shaw but to no avail.

The moment he had seen her, Marina, he had this intense feeling of recognition, like he had known her his whole life, and that had just been a drawing of her. He had heard stories that werewolf children had a strong connection to their parents, especially the parent with the werewolf gene. Until recently, he had only thought it was a myth, since he never really felt that connection to his… to Nathan and Marlow. But, the fact that he felt it with Marina, was just more confirmation that Sheriff Stilinski was telling the truth.

Stranger still, the fact that Derek had had his eyes open to this secret, meant he was starting to feel a stronger connection to the sheriff. It was already something he had felt for a while, every time he was around the older man, a small niggling in his gut, but a part of him had convinced himself it was because of Stiles. Stiles was a part of his part, a part of his family, and anyone associated with Stiles was brought into the fold, regardless if they knew about the supernatural or not, but now Derek was beginning to rethink that little tidbit.

It also explained why he accepted Stiles as easily as he did. Since Kate, he hadn't really trusted a lot of humans, but Stiles had always been different. Again, Derek had convinced himself it was because of their connection to Scott. He had been forced to team up with Stiles so many times, trust him with his life so many times, because of Scott, that he had to learn to trust him, to keep him around, but now, again, he was starting to rethink all of that; he was starting to rethink a lot of his life.

He finally found the grave he was looking for, situated in the back of the graveyard, a few spaces down from his grandparents. When the police had finally released her body, Derek had made arrangements to have Laura buried in an actual graveyard. Originally, he wanted her planted in his yard, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to have her put to rest on hallowed ground; less chance of something stealing her body.

"Hey Laura," Derek said softly, lowering himself to the ground. He leaned back, into her gravestone, and ran his fingers through the grass. "I was going to visit sooner but some stuff happened." He recapped everything that had happened in the past few hours, from running into the sheriff in the grocery store to a half an hour ago with the picture of Marina.

"…and I felt this connection to her, Laura. Something I never really felt with Mom or Dad." His hands stilled and he realized they were shaking slightly as anger ran through his veins. "Why didn't they ever tell me? I mean, I get that she was killed by the hunters, I get that, and no one wants them deader than me, but to keep this…" he sighed, clenching his hands into fists. "Were they afraid I'd go after them? I kinda screwed up their plan after I got them…" He trailed off, biting their lip.

"The kicker is I can't even ask them. Not after what Kate did to them, and I can't exactly trust Peter to tell me anything. He'll just twist the truth, throw in a lie or two, and I don't think I could take anymore lies." Derek leaned his head back, letting it rest on the gravestone, and mumbled, "What do I do now, Laura?"

_Get to know your father,_ his mental Laura suggested. That was a good idea in theory, but would the sheriff even _want _to know him? He had been a fugitive at one point, and he knew Stiles' father only put up with Derek's constant presence because he and Stiles were sorta friends. Though, the older man _did_ approach Derek and tell him all this information. He could have easily hid it, pretended he didn't discover anything, but he hadn't. The sheriff had come to him, had told him his suspicion, had trusted that he, Derek, could handle the information. He had _trusted _Derek's instincts.

Perhaps mental Laura was right. Maybe he should get to know Stiles' dad, his… his father. It couldn't hurt, and maybe, just to appease the older man, he could also suggest a blood test. There was very little doubt in Derek's mind now, but maybe the older man wasn't so sure. He wasn't a werewolf after all…

And that's when it hit Derek. Marina hadn't told the sheriff about him _because_ she was a werewolf. She hadn't wanted Sheriff Stilinski to get hurt or killed by the hunters, especially if they threatened his son. And Derek knew the older man would have stopped at nothing to keep him safe, regardless of his safety. He had seen the way the sheriff was around Stiles, the way he protected his son, and he had very little doubt he would have been an exception.

Maybe getting to know the sheriff wasn't such a good idea after all. He didn't want to get the older man hurt, not with the Alphas roaming around and Gerard. He wasn't sure where the older man was, but he knew, without a doubt, that he was still alive. No one that corrupt was going to die that easily. He held a grudge and learning Derek had family was just kindling to his revenge fire.

Of course, Gerard had taken Stiles and beaten him up just because he was Scott's best friend. It wouldn't matter to Gerard if Derek was close to his family or not, he'd do what he wanted, whenever he wanted, and Derek could do nothing to stop him short of actually killing him.

_ Stop talking yourself out of it and do it,_ Laura insisted and he could almost picture her grabbing his arm and dragging himself to his feet. _If you spend your whole life wondering about the consequences you'll never be happy again. Go find him._

He nodded, getting to his feet. He couldn't keep living in the past, he had to move on, and maybe this was the best thing for him. Derek turned, resting his hand on Laura's gravestone, freezing when he noticed a key sitting at the top. He slowly picked it up, studying it, wondering what it went to and who had left it behind.

With a shrug, he pocketed it, having a feeling the key was for him, and started towards the graveyard's gate. He was about to scale it when a flashlight shined directly in his face.


	4. Chapter 4

It took some extensive searching, but Jack finally figured out where Derek had gone. He slowly drove to the graveyard, not wanting to spook the kid, wondering just how in the hell he managed to get into the place to begin with. He was fairly certain someone locked the gates at sunset. Either Derek risked climbing the gate or there was an opening somewhere. He made a mental note to have the cemetery wall checked over sometime in the next few days.

He pulled his car up to the graveyard, his eyes widening slightly when he noticed one of his deputies leading a handcuffed Derek towards his squad car. Swearing under his breath, Jack threw his door open and scrambled out of his car.

"What's going on?" he asked moving towards the deputy and a disgruntled looking Derek.

"Found him trespassing, Sheriff," the deputy stated, his name tag reading _T. Hanson_. Jack didn't know the man well, he was one of the replacements after the attack on the Sheriff's department (he had lost some good men during that attack, and his main goal was to find out who, or what, did it), but he knew the guy was good at his job; except where today was concerned.

"I'll take care of him," Jack said quickly, glancing over at Derek. The kid refused to look him in the eye, his head bowed, a pinched look on his pale face.

"Are you sure?" the deputy asked curiously, his eyebrows furrowing. "I was just gonna…"

"Seriously, Hanson, I'll take care of him." Jack gestured to the handcuffs and said, "You can take those off his wrists."

Still looking a little unsure, Hanson released Derek's wrists, placing his cuffs back on his belt. "Don't let me catch you roaming around the cemetery after dark again. You hear me," he warned the younger guy before moving towards his car. He got in, flashed the sheriff one, last, uncertain look, and then drove away.

"Would you like a ride back to your car?" Jack asked after a long, drawn out, awkward silence. Derek nodded and followed the sheriff back to his vehicle. Once both guys were in the car and had their seat belts on, Jack started the engine and pulled back onto the road.

"So," Jack started glancing over at Derek, "you wanna get something to eat first?" The kid's eyebrows furrowed in surprise, but he nodded. "Good because I am starving." It was quiet for a few seconds, but Jack broke the silence by asking, "So, how did you get into the graveyard?"

Derek was quiet for a moment, staring out the window, but eventually he murmured, "I climbed the fence."

"That's a seven-foot tall fence," Jack replied with a low whistle. Derek merely grunted but didn't verbally respond. The rest of the ride lapsed into a heavy silence.

A good fifteen minutes later, Jack parked his car across the street from an old diner. "You're not into eating healthy are you?"

"Not particularly," Derek answered softly.

"Good. I was afraid you'd be like Stiles and try to force me to order something healthy or organic."

"Who _does_ he get _that _from?" the kid asked curiously.

"His mother," Jack replied quietly and Derek nodded, "along with the constant talking, the strange sense of humor, and that big damn heart of his." A heart Jack was afraid was going to end up demolished several times over before his son found the right person for him.

"He reminds me of Laura," Derek muttered so quietly Jack almost didn't catch it. The older man gave the kid a small smile and then both guys got out of the vehicle.

They headed inside the semi-busy place, one of the waitresses telling them to sit wherever. Jack led Derek towards the back of the diner and both sat across from each other in a booth. Jack leaned back, resting his arm across the back of the booth, watching as Derek rested his arms on the table and looked around the place.

"Stiles and I come here about twice a week," Jack explained softly. "Neither of us are much of a cook, so we either eat here, get take out, or hope we don't burn whatever we are trying to make." Derek nodded, quietly thanking the waitress as she appeared, handing over two menus.

"Hey Jack," Gerty greeted with a smile, "how've you been?"

"Fine," Jack replied with his own smile. "How's about you?"

"Busy," she responded with a sigh. She glanced at Derek and asked, "Who's this?"

"This is Derek," Jack introduced the kid. He wasn't sure whether to call him his son or not, so he opted to just say his name. It had to be better than saying 'This is my son's sorta friend who was, at one time, accused of killing his sister when he, in fact, did not actually do it. Oh, and he's also my son from a girl I dated in college. Boy has my life taken another crazy, crazy turn.'

"It's nice to meet you, Derek," Gerty stated smiling down at him.

"Likewise," the kid replied giving her a small smile in return.

She pulled out her order book, slipping back into 'professional mode' once more, and said, "Our specials are on that board," she pointed to a dry erase board hanging over the door, "over there, and the soup of the day is tomato. Can I get you two something to drink?"

"Coffee," Jack ordered with a smile.

"Same," Derek murmured and she nodded, moving back towards the counter to get the coffee pot.

"She serves us all the time," Jack explained and Derek nodded. For a few seconds they sat in a heavy silence, but, once again, Sheriff Stilinski broke it first. "So, were you visiting Laura?" he asked curiously, flipping his mug over. A few scattered emotions crossed Derek's face as he opened his menu, but he otherwise didn't respond. "I'm not mad," Sheriff Stilinski continued. "In fact, sometimes I'll stop by the cemetery, see my wife. It helps to talk things out, you know, regardless if they are listening or not."

"Yes, I saw Laura," Derek confirmed softly, after a long pause.

"And did your visit help?"

The kid opened his mouth to reply, but the waitress reappeared and filled their coffee mugs. She smiled and said, "Do you two need a minute?"

"I'll have the special," Jack responded glancing at the board. Roast Beef sounded far better than anything he was planning on making tonight.

"And you sweetie," Gerty asked turning to look at Derek.

"Uh…" he glanced through the menu, finally settling on a burger and fries.

"You're orders will be right up," Gerty said and moved away from them again.

As Jack added one packet of sugar to his cup, he watched as Derek lightly tapped his fingers against the table. The kid's eyes rested on the table, his mind, no doubt, very far away, and Jack nearly opened his mouth to ask what he was thinking, but Derek interrupted him by saying, "I did some thinking…"

"Okay," Jack stated when the kid trailed off, giving him an opening to continue talking when he felt like it.

"And I think I'd…" he was searching for the correct words, Jack could tell, squirming slightly in his seat, looking uncomfortable with trying to express his emotions. Internally, Jack smiled. It was another thing he and Derek had in common. "…I'd like to get to know you. If you, you know, don't mind."

"That's entirely up to you," Jack stated softly. He didn't want his son, his eldest, to think he had to ask permission to hang around him. Of course, he had to remember, this wasn't Stiles he was dealing with. Derek had been cut from a different cloth. "But I'd like that if you decide you want to."

"Okay." Derek nodded. "And if…" he trailed off, an uncomfortable look crossing his face. "If you need absolute proof or anything…"

"Are you suggesting a paternity test?" That surprised Jack a little. The older man hadn't really considered actually asking Derek for a DNA test. He hadn't really doubted Derek's paternity, but he knew the kid had a point. There could be a chance, a very slim, very unlikely chance, that Marina had more than one boyfriend in college. Derek could easily be someone else's kid. But Jack highly doubted it; there was still _something _about the kid. Something he couldn't ignore no matter how hard he tried, and a huge part of him really didn't want to ignore it.

"It's just to be sure," the kid muttered, but Jack could sense the kid had very little doubt to who his parents were now. It seemed someone, somewhere opened his eyes, leaving him unable to turn back, return to his ignorance and bliss. A part of Jack was glad. Every time he saw Derek, he hated seeing the kid look so alone. This could be good for him.

"If you want a paternity test," Jack started slowly, taking sip of his coffee, "we'll take one, but I don't think we need one."

"Me neither," Derek admitted quietly and Jack nodded, giving the kid a small smile.

Their food arrived soon after, and the two fell silent as they began to eat. It wasn't until their plates were empty, and they were waiting for their check, that Jack said, "You know, if you'd like, you can stay at my place for a while; just until your house is done."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," Derek muttered glancing down at the table.

"You're not, kid," Sheriff Stilinski stated with a gentle smile. "Besides, what kind of father would I be if I left you alone in that big, half-finished house?" It had been a joke, but Jack noticed a flicker of sorrow and regret cross Derek's face. "Listen, kid, I know Nathan and Marlow Hale raised you, and I'd never try to take their places, but I'd like to get to know you, too."

"I'd like that," he responded quietly, after a beat.

"Besides, when Stiles gets home we're going to have to team up to tell him." That got a small chuckle out of Derek, and Jack grinned back. This could work, getting to know his eldest, and it'd be a trial run before Stiles got home. He wasn't kidding when he told Derek they needed to team up when dealing with the youngest boy. He was, no doubt, going to flip the hell out.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed some more Derek angst and if anyone is slightly OOC let me know.**

**Anyway, here's what I have planned. I'm finishing up this story in (I want to say) two or three more chapters. Then I'm going to write a much longer follow-up, with an actual plot, starring Derek and Stiles. Pretty much it'll focus on Stiles dealing with this bomb shell and I'll add a few other characters and a mess of crap. It's gonna be... well, it'll be a story.**

**So, anyway, I'll catch ya in the next few chapters, thanks a bunch for reviewing, alerting, and favoriting last chapter, and I really hope you enjoyed this.**

**They still aren't mine.**

**See ya!**


	5. Chapter 5

"I hope you don't mind the couch," Jack said coming downstairs with an armful of blankets and a pillow. "I'd offer up Stiles' room, but he has a thing about letting people sleep in his bed." The older man moved towards the couch, depositing his armload onto the cushions.

"That's fine," Derek replied from the living room's entryway. He was carrying a duffle bag, just a few odds and ends Jack had him pick up before they returned to the sheriff's house. "I've slept on worse surfaces."

Jack nodded, ignoring the tightening in his gut. He didn't want to think about his eldest sleeping on anything _but _a bed or a couch. He sniffed and said, "The bathroom is up the steps…"

"...first door on the left," Derek muttered nodding. Jack had to remember, the kid had been here a few times. He knew where the bathroom was located. For a few seconds, the two guys stood there awkwardly. Jack wasn't sure if he should just go to bed or offer to watch some television with Derek. But, surprisingly, Derek was the first to break the silence this time. "I'm kinda tired."

"Okay," Jack responded moving towards the stairs. "You need anything…" he gestured to himself awkwardly and Derek nodded again, tossing his bag on the coffee table. He began searching through his bag, probably looking for something to wear, and Jack turned to head upstairs, but stopped when Derek called, "Sheriff Stilinski…"

"Please, call me Jack," Jack corrected turning to face the kid. He was looking at the floor, obviously thinking something over, but eventually came to a decision.

"I, uh, I found this," he said pulling a key from his pocket, showing it to Jack. "I'm not sure what it goes to, but…"

"That's a deposit box key," Jack stated moving towards Derek. He gently took the key from the dark haired kid, studying it. "Where did you find it?"

"L-Laura's headstone," Derek responded softly, looking at the key.

Jack nodded, handing the key back to the younger guy. "We'll go to the bank tomorrow, before I leave for work, see if we can find out where it belongs."

"You don't have to…"

"I want to," Jack interrupted, giving Derek a smile. The younger guy nodded, fiddling with the key. "You just get some sleep, okay?"

"Okay."

"See you in the morning." Had this been Stiles, Jack would have kissed him on the forehead, but since he didn't know Derek that way, he merely patted the kid on the shoulder and headed up the steps. As he climbed the stairs, he couldn't help thinking: _I hope things get less awkward between us. Otherwise it's going to be some weird __ass__ holidays._

**TW**

Around two, Jack wandered downstairs to get a drink of water. He moved towards the kitchen, stumbling over one of Stiles' shoes, when he heard inaudible talking coming from the living room. The older man stopped, listening closely, wondering if maybe Derek had received a phone call or something, but he thought better of that theory when he clearly heard Laura's name among the incoherent babble.

"Crap," Jack muttered slowly moving towards the living room. He stopped in the entryway, eyeing the couch cautiously. Had this been Stiles, he would have gently awoken his son, asked him if he wanted to talk about it, and probably stayed up watching movies with him until he felt asleep again. But, again, he had to remind himself this wasn't Stiles.

What did he do? He doubted Derek would allow any sort of physical comfort. But he couldn't very well sit there doing nothing except watch the kid. He hadn't been able to sit idly by when Stiles was going through crap, and he wasn't treating Derek any differently.

So, he slowly moved towards the couch, taking a seat on the coffee table. He watched the kid for a second, noting the way his head turned from side to side, his face contorted into pure sorrow as he muttered his sister's name again. Derek fisted his blanket, grasping it so hard that Jack noticed blood start to leak through the material. The sheriff figured the kid must have dug his nails into the skin on his palms.

Wanting to avoid anymore self-harming, Jack hesitated a second longer before running a hand through Derek's damp hair. He remembered Talia doing the same thing to Stiles whenever he had had a nightmare. Jack had never really been good at the comforting thing, but he tried his damndest when he had to, and this time was no different.

"It's okay," he muttered stroking the younger guy's forehead. "You're okay." It seemed to have worked; Derek had calmed down some, and actually leaned into the touch. Jack kept up the soothing for a few moments longer, just until the younger guy fell into a deep sleep, before lowering his hand.

He very nearly stood up, leaving the kid alone, but thought better of it. Instead, he slid off the coffee table, leaning his back against the couch. He knew he was going to be in pain in the morning, but he really didn't care. He was going to be there, just in case his eldest needed him.

**TW**

Sunlight washed over Derek's face and he turned his face away from the light, burying it under a pillow; a pillow that didn't quite smell right. He froze, for a split second unsure where he was, but then he remembered the day before; the life changing bombshell. A very small part of him missed the ignorant bliss.

Ignoring that part, he pulled his head out from underneath the pillow, very much aware of the sizzling, frying sound of bacon cooking. It actually smelt really good, the scent assaulting his wolf senses, and his stomach growled. He pushed his blanket off him, catching the metallic scent of blood. He looked down, noticing the scarlet staining the blanket.

_Crap_, he thought. He must have had another nightmare, his claws retracting sometime during the night. He never remembered the dreams, but every single member of his pack had pointed out that he had had them. Plus, it didn't exactly help matters when he awoke, in his room, with his arms covered in blood from his claws. Alpha wounds weren't easy wounds to heal, and he was now stuck with nail marks in his palms. At least it was just his hands, it could have been a lot worse.

Derek got off the couch, following the sounds and smells of cooking breakfast, heading towards the kitchen. Jack was standing at the stove, still wearing his night clothes, poking at a frying pan with a fork. Derek was very much aware of the slight winches when the older man moved too quickly, and he could also hear the sheriff singing a song he had never heard before but was fairly certain was popular before he was even born.

"You gonna stand there or are you gonna help me?" Jack asked curiously, catching Derek by surprise. He now knew exactly how Stiles felt when he was around the other werewolves. Of course, Stiles was human, he made noises even when he wasn't trying to. Derek was a werewolf, he moved without making a sound, whether he was trying or not. How could Jack hear him? Of course, maybe he hadn't heard him. Maybe it was just some freaking cop thing. Regardless, Derek had to admit it was kind of cool.

"Eggs need cracking, Derek," Jack said gesturing to the cartoon near his arm. "I can't do everything."

Grinning slightly, Derek moved across the kitchen, stopping next to Jack. There was already another frying pan sitting on the stove, right next to Jack's arm, and Derek made quick work cracking two eggs into the pan.

"Sorry," he muttered when he noticed a few pieces of shell floating in the yolk. He had really been trying to avoid that, but he had never been very good at cooking to begin with. That made him smile. Jack had said he wasn't good at cooking either, just like Stiles. Maybe it was a family thing.

"That's okay," Jack said using a spoon to scoop the shell pieces out. "The amount of times I've bit into Stiles' scrambled eggs, you'd think the kid just tossed the egg, shell and all, into the pan." Derek chuckled, shaking his head, and the two men continued to make breakfast.

"So, I was thinking, after we eat, we can stop by the bank," Jack suggested flipping the bacon.

"Okay," Derek replied nodding.

"Good, and then maybe you could come down to the police station with me." Derek gave the older man a cautious look, narrowing his eyes. "Nothing like that," Jack corrected softly. "It's just sometimes Stiles will help out with some of the filing. Nothing remotely case worthy, mind you, but you know parking tickets, speeding tickets, impounding fees; little stuff like that." Jack used a spatula to get the bacon out of the pan, lying the pieces on a plate sitting on the counter. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"No, that's fine," Derek said quickly, trying very hard to keep the eggs from running. He was pretty sure they were going to turn into scrambled eggs regardless of what he had been trying to make beforehand. "I don't mind."

"Good, and then afterwards, if I get off early enough, we can go get some pizza or something."

It was a little surreal to Derek, standing in the kitchen with his biological dad, helping him make breakfast, making plans for the day. It was as if they had known each other forever; like Derek had spent his entire life around the older man and not the last few hours. It was also a little scary, just how comfortable he was getting around the older man. It was just like Stiles all over again.

Once breakfast was complete, the two guys carried the food into the dining room, and sat across from each other. As they ate, Jack asked Derek simple questions: If he had seen any good movies lately? What his favorite sports team was? Did he watch a lot of television? Just stuff like that.

The older man was a little surprised when Derek admitted that he didn't follow sports too much and that he liked to read over watching television or movies. Jack then smiled and said, "You sound just like Marina."

"Really?" The older man nodded, taking a drink of his coffee. It was the first time, since Jack mentioned Derek's smile, that the older man had compared him to his birth mom. It felt nice, comfortable even, and Derek suddenly wanted to know more about the woman. He cleared his throat and quietly asked, "Can you tell me about her?"

"She had a very dry sense of humor," Jack stated softly, picking at his food. "She even had a little bit of a wild side, but she was also thoughtful, quiet. She also had a fiery temper." He stabbed a piece of egg, but didn't lift the fork to his mouth. "She loved her family, even if she didn't talk about them much; I could just tell."

It was as if Jack was describing a different person. Peter had focused on the negative, most likely trying to turn Derek off the idea of learning anything about his birth mother, but with Jack, he was bringing up memories he had, most definitely, long since buried. He had remarried after Marina Shaw, had built a great life for himself. She had merely been a fling in college, but the fact that he could recall all those things, meant he didn't regret the fling. It made Derek feel a little better about deciding to get to know the man.

"Thank you," he said softly, glancing down at his plate.

"No problem," Jack muttered and the two finished their breakfast in silence.

**TW**

After both guys were dressed, they headed out, taking Jack's car to the bank. On the drive, the older man entertained Derek by telling him stories about Stiles and his mother. The more he learned about Talia Stilinski, the more Derek began to understand Stiles better. Like him and his mother, Stiles took after Talia, with just a sprinkle of Jack's genes to keep them balanced.

The lady at the bank studied the key before deeming it one of theirs. She then ran the serial number, found out who owned the deposit box, and showed the guys to the box after confirming Derek was actually a relative of the box's owner. Derek had a feeling the woman had been skeptical about his relationship to the owner, and had it not been for Jack she would have denied him access to the box. He made a mental note to thank the older man when he got the chance.

She unlocked the box, pulled it free, and carried it to a wooden table. She set it down and looked up at the two guys, "I'll leave you two be for a moment. Call me when you are done." She then wandered out of the vault, heading back towards her desk.

For a brief moment, Derek just stared at the box. He had no idea what was inside, and a part of him wanted him to bolt, to run, to forget any of this had ever happened. He glanced up at Jack, the older man giving him an encouraging smile, and easily pushed that part away. He was doing this. He wanted to know.

Carefully, he opened the box. Inside was a sealed letter, the envelope yellow with age, a VHS tape, and another envelope, this one open, full of pictures. Derek carefully took the pictures out, spreading them across the table, his eyes settling on several snapshots of a familiar dark haired woman holding an equally familiar, dark haired baby.

His eyes took in every single picture, every single detail. She was pretty, his mother; even if she hadn't actually looked into the camera he could tell. He could also tell that she was a Hale through and through: the same dark hair, the same light eyes, and the same pale skin. He had inherited a lot of his features from her, just like Stiles had inherited a lot of his from his mother.

Slowly, blinking twice to clear his vision, he started collecting the photos. He put them back in the envelope, collected the rest of the stuff, and turned to face Jack. "Can we…?"

"I have a VCR somewhere in the attic," Jack said softly and Derek nodded.

After they left the bank, Jack drove them back to the house. As he went upstairs to look for the VCR, Derek weighed the letter in his hands. His name was on the front, in Marlow's handwriting. A part of him didn't want to open the letter, didn't want to read what his _aunt_ had to say, but he knew he had to; it was the right thing to do.

So, he ran his finger underneath the envelope, easily slitting it open, and carefully pulled a yellow page from inside. He braced himself, took a deep breath, and glanced down at the words:

_Derek,_

_If you are reading this then we've finally told you the truth. Believe me, honey, we never wanted to hide it from you, your father and me, but Marina asked us to. She said we could give you a better life than she could; that we were the ideal parents._

_I whole-heartedly disagreed with her, and went to confront her about her decision, but we were attacked before I could bring it up. Hunters, Derek, tried to grab us both, but your mother fought them off, bought me time so I could get away._

_She died not long after. I won't tell you how we knew, I don't ever want you to think about that, but we knew. We buried her in the cemetery, under an old cypress tree because she loved the shade. It's not far from Grandma and Grandpa Hale, and maybe one day I'll show you._

_I know what you are thinking. After she died why did we still keep this from you? It's because we were trying to protect you, sweetie. We wanted you safe. We wanted you to stay away from the hunters. We were selfish. I am so sorry, Derek. Both your father and I are so, so sorry. Someday we hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us. And Marina._

_Love always,_

_Mom._

* * *

**_Up Next: Derek's reaction to the letter, a word from Marina, and some more father/son bonding between Jack and Derek. It's going to be a bumpy ride._**

_**I'm iffy on the letter. Sappy stuff hasn't really been my strong point in the past. But I am working on it.**_

_**So, thanks for the reviews and alerts last chapter, thanks for reading this chapter, and leave me a comment if you can.**_

_**Still don't own 'em.**_

_**Bye!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**I like to call this chapter: The Angst Riddled ****Smorgasbord. WOOO!**

**Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favovrited last chapter. I cannot thank you enough.**

**So, thanks for reading, I tried not to make this too sappy, and leave me a comment if you can.**

**They still aren't mine.**

* * *

He read through the letter twice, studying each word, each letter. It was handwriting he knew well, from years of finding notes in his lunch and the odd reminder on the fridge. He had grown up with the writing, loved the person whose hand it belonged to, and would have given anything to see her again.

He sniffed, blinking rapidly, and put the letter onto the coffee table. She had plans to tell him someday, it was clear in what she had written. He'd never know when exactly because of the fire. A fire he helped cause, no matter how small of a role he played. In a way, he _had_ been the reason he never learned the truth.

He sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. The last twenty-four hours had been the most screwed up in his life, and that was saying something. He not only learned his parents lied to him, but also that his birth mother was dead, his birth father was oblivious to his existence for most of his life, and his half-brother was the annoying little human that got under his skin, made himself at home, and integrated himself into his pack before Derek had a chance to stop him. Sometimes he really did miss the quiet.

"You okay?" he heard Jack ask, his voice concerned. Usually, he would have been disconcerted about not being able to hear someone approaching, but some instinct told him Jack wasn't going to hurt him, so he merely lifted his head and nodded. "Did you read the letter?" he nodded again. "And…?"

"C-can we watch the tape first?" Derek asked softly and the older man nodded.

"Let me hook up the VCR for you," Jack said and moved away from Derek, heading towards the TV. It took a few moments, the flat screen not exactly equipped to hook up a VCR, but eventually Jack figured it out and he moved back to the couch, sitting next to him. "Whenever you're ready."

Derek picked the tape up, fiddled with it for a moment. He then stood, moved towards the VCR, and put the tape in. He slowly moved back to the couch, sitting next to Jack again. For a moment the screen was black, but finally a fuzzy figure appeared. Slowly, the resolution cleared enough to reveal Marina Shaw.

Her hair was tied into a haphazard ponytail, her clothes were a bit rumpled, and her blue eyes were wild as she looked around the rundown shack she sat in. When she was certain she wasn't being followed, or about to be attacked, she looked back at the camera.

"Hi," she started giving the camera a shaky smile. "If you're watching this, I'm probably dead, and Marlow and Nathan didn't do as I asked. And if that's the case, then yes I am your birth mom." Her eyes turned sad as she continued, "Despite what I told my brother and his wife, I never wanted to leave you, but I ran into some trouble.

"I'm sure you know all about the hunters. They are supposed to follow a code and only go after the adults of our kind. That is if they have absolute proof we killed someone. However, they don't follow this code, at least not all of them, and I believe I am next on their list; perhaps our entire pack.

"I left you with Nathan and Marlow because I believed they could keep you safe. They would know when to run, when to take you away from the hunters. They'll keep you a-alive." She sniffed, wiping at her eyes.

"But Derek, you need to listen to me, if something _does_ happen to Nathan and Marlow, I want you to find your father and explain everything to him." She showed a photo of a long haired, blond guy, maybe around Derek's age, with bluish-green eyes. In a way, he reminded Derek of Stiles, but he knew it was Jack. "His name is Jack Stilinski. He's not like us, but I know he'll keep you safe.

"You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I-I really wish I could have gotten to know you. Just remember, I will always love you." She kissed her fingers, placing them against the camera's lens. "Good-bye, baby." Derek heard one last sniff before the screen went black.

For a while, Derek stared numbly at the screen. He already knew the hunters killed her, Peter having already confirmed this (along with Marlow), but he hadn't known they were actively tracking her down. It made him wonder just how long Gerard, and others like him, were looking for the Hales.

He glanced over at Jack, who was staring at the black screen, too. His eyebrows were furrowed, obviously trying to piece together what he had just seen. He had questions, Derek could tell, and he was going to want them answered.

And as much as he didn't _want _to_, _Derek knew _he_ was going to have to be the one to answer the man's questions. If this father/son relationship was going to happen, Jack couldn't remain in the dark anymore. Not if hunters, or anything remotely supernatural, could potentially come after him and kill him.

In a way, he felt like a complete hypocrite. Every single time Stiles asked, almost begged, him to let Jack into the fold, he had said no. Now, he was going against his own advice, and for the same reasons Stiles wanted his, no _their,_ father to know. Maybe he should have let Stiles tell Jack beforehand. This would have been so much easier.

"I need to tell you some things," Derek said slowly, looking back at the screen. He noticed, in the corner of his eyes, Jack nod. "If you want me to leave afterwards I'll understand, and you'll never see me again." Jack opened his mouth to, most likely, protest or ask why, but Derek held up his hand. "Just let me get this out first, okay?" The older man closed his mouth and nodded again.

"Okay, first let me tell you that Stiles knows already. He's known for over a year, mostly because it happened to Scott." He was stalling, that was blatantly obvious, but he had this gut feeling that Jack was going to kick him out the moment he told the older man anything. It had only been twenty-four hours, and already Derek couldn't imagine losing Jack, too.

But he had to. Jack _had_ to be prepared because something new was bound to attack, something that could easily figure out Derek's relationship to the older man, and go after him. There was no backing out, he had to tell him.

So, he drew in a deep breath and said, "I'm a werewolf." A skeptical face met his, and Derek quickly flashed his eyes red, elongated his canines. Jack reeled back, his eyes wide, eyeing Derek cautiously. "It's okay," the younger guy stated, his eyes and teeth returning to normal. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"T-that's not…"

"Possible? Yeah, I wish it weren't," Derek replied softly, "but it's what I am. Stiles wanted to tell you a long time ago, but I always…"

"Stiles knows? How does Stiles know?"

"Scott was bitten about a year ago."

"Scott is a…? Does Melissa know?"

"Yeah," Derek responded nodding. "She found out a few months ago, when Matt attacked the station." Jack's hand unconsciously went to his head. "I know we probably should have told you a lot sooner…"

"Why didn't you tell me?" the older man asked, lowering his hand, looking up at Derek.

"Honestly, I didn't want anyone else to know. With Stiles, Melissa, Allison, Lydia…" Derek trailed off, averting his eyes. "It would just be one more human to protect, one more life in my hands. The less you knew, the more you'd be protected. Monsters and hunters don't usually go after you if you don't know anything."

"That's why Marina kept you from me," Jack muttered, his eyes flicking back to the screen.

"Yes."

"Are these hunters still after you?" he gestured at the screen, his face torn between concern and skepticism. He really wanted to believe, but a part of him was fighting the truth. Derek knew the feeling, and he didn't blame the man.

"Sorta," Derek answered quietly. "The Argents aren't, or at least Allison and her father."

"Argents? Chris Argent is…?"

"Yeah, and his sister _did_ set my family's home on fire. I suspect her father told her to, and he's still out there somewhere. He's the one who hurt Stiles."

"He told me a couple kids from the other school did it," Jack muttered numbly. "I knew he was lying, but I never suspected…" he shook his head. "And this guy is still out there. W-where is he?"

"We don't know," Derek replied slowly. "Deaton has been keeping an eye out for him, as has my pack, but…"

"D-Deaton and your pack? You have a pack? And isn't Deaton a vet? What the hell…?" Jack sprang to his feet, pacing back and forth. Too much information was being hurtled at the older man, and he probably needed a few moments to wrap his head around everything. So, Derek gave him his few minutes, sitting silently on the couch, watching him cautiously.

"Who is in your pack?" Jack finally asked, continuing to pace, shooting Derek a quick look. "Is it the kids who briefly went missing? Reyes, Boyd, and Lahey?"

"Yes," Derek answered after a very brief pause. "And Jackson."

"Whittemore?" Jack shook his head muttering, "I guess it would explain why he was suddenly alive."

Derek remembered the controversy surrounding Jackson's sudden resurrection. Doctors had examined him, but hadn't found anything remotely wrong with him, and nobody could logically explain how he was alive; nobody that mattered at least.

"What about Scott? You said he was a were… like you. Is he in you pack?"

Derek would have to be deaf to miss the fact that Jack couldn't bring himself to say the word 'werewolf.' But that was okay, it really didn't bother him as much as it could have. "No," he responded to Jack's questions, "not exclusively at least. He's kind of formed his own pack, and sometimes his will intermingle with mine."

"And Stiles?"

The question caught Derek off guard. He hadn't expected Jack to ask about his son since Stiles was not a werewolf nor should he _actually_ be a part of a pack, but he had actually managed to join not one, but two packs. His loyalties may lie with Scott's pack, but he always had a place in Derek's; now more so than ever.

"I consider him pack," Derek carefully answered. "He's not like me, if that helps any."

Jack vaguely nodded, continuing to pace across the floor. "The station? What did…?"

"A Kanima," Derek answered after a beat.

"And that is…?"

"A lizard person," the younger guy responded. "Matt was controlling it."

"It wasn't a mountain lion that kill those people last year, was it?"

"No."

Jack stopped pacing, taking a seat next to Derek. He turned to the younger guy and said, "It was your uncle Peter wasn't it?"

"What?" Again, Derek was taken by surprise. He hadn't realized just how perceptive Jack Stilinski was, and it suddenly made sense where Stiles got his abilities.

"It's just, he goes missing from the hospital after six years, his nurse turns up dead, and he's still MIA today. We haven't found a body, or any indication that he is dead. He was responsible wasn't he?"

"My uncle Peter is responsible for a lot of things," Derek started slowly, looking at his hands, "and will be dealt with when he least expects it. I don't want you to get hurt going after him." Derek didn't want anyone getting hurt going after his uncle. He'd take care of Peter.

"Why don't I like the sound of that," Jack responded softly.

"I wouldn't expect you to," Derek replied, his voice equally quiet. The younger guy suddenly stood, running his hands down his jeans. "I think I should go…"

"Why?" Jack asked, his eyes narrowing.

"It's just, you probably want me to leave, and I'm not going to…"

"Derek," Sheriff Stilinski said softly, catching the younger guy's attention. "I may be having a hard time believing this, but I'm not going to make you leave. You're my son, and I'm not going to turn my back on you just because you happen to be a-a _werewolf._" Derek had a feeling he had practiced that speech for Stiles, just in case his son dropped a bomb on him, and just substituted some words for different ones.

"Are you sure?" he asked slowly.

Jack was quiet for a moment, thinking, but finally he nodded and said, "I am one-hundred percent sure because you are my son, and I love you."

Derek hadn't heard the l-word in a while. In fact, the last time anyone said it to him had been Laura just before they parted ways, about a week before she was murdered. But today, he had been hearing it a lot. From Marlow, from his mother, from Jack… did he deserve so much affection? A part of him believed he didn't, but another part couldn't help hoping that Jack was being serious. He had been alone for so long, and his pack were a great substitute for a family, but he missed having the real thing.

"If you're sure," he said softly, slowly sitting back down on the couch.

Jack rested his hand on the side of Derek's head. "I'm sure," he stated softly. He then patted the werewolf's hair gently and stood up. "You wanna help me make some lunch before I have to go to work?"

"Sure," the younger guy responded softly, after a few seconds' pause. Jack nodded, turning to walk into the kitchen. It hadn't been the reaction Derek was expecting, but it went a lot better than it could have gone. He hadn't been banished from the Stilinski household, he had gained a new family member, and he knew his parents didn't keep this from him to hurt him.

He was still a little irked they put too much effort into trying to protect him. He could have been a better help to them if they had _just_ told him, but he figured beggars couldn't be choosers. He couldn't go back in time and fix anything, so why dwell on it. He knew the truth now, and that's what should matter.

And it did matter, or it would. He just needed time, just a little bit of time, and maybe he could do as Marlow said and find it in his heart to forgive them. All three of them; Marina included. Or he could at least try, and that was what he intended to do.


	7. Chapter 7

**Re-updating**

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It took some adjusting, but by Friday morning Jack was used to having Derek around. In fact, it was a bit like having Stiles around; if he happened to be a quiet, supernatural creature with the knack for moving silently through rooms, scaring the crap out of Jack.

Stiles had called twice, reminding his father that his class' plane would be landing around two that afternoon and they would be returning to the school immediately afterwards. Both times, Jack neglected to tell his son the news. This wasn't something he could tell him over the phone. And Derek agreed… or Jack thought Derek agreed. Again, the kid didn't say much.

Around two-twenty, he left to get Stiles, leaving Derek to his own devices (which so happened to be reading a very old, very long book). His son was sitting outside the school, seated on his luggage, talking to Scott when Jack pulled up. The sheriff honked his horn twice, catching his son's attention, and he said good-bye to Scott before rushing towards the car.

He got in, gave his dad a quick, one-armed hug, and immediately began speaking, "Okay, so I found this street vendor who would willingly put whatever you wanted on a mug or t-shirt as long as you bought said items. So, I bought a mug and had this," he pulled the mug from his bag, handing it to Jack, "made for you."

Jack looked down at it, snorting as he read _Sheriff Dad._ He shook his head, handing the mug back to Stiles with a silent 'thank you.' He then started the car and pulled out of the school's parking lot.

"I also had a t-shirt made for Derek. Actually, we all had t-shirts made for him." Stiles laughed, digging around his bag for the shirt. "Erica's said 'Grumpy's Stunt Double,' Lydia took 'Sourwolf' before I could," he made a face before continuing, "uh, I leant Scott some money and his said 'Number Two Alpha,' Jackson's said 'Random T-Shirt Slogan I Did Not Want To Add.' Yeah, it's long, but he only did it because Lydia made him. Allison…"

"I'm glad you had fun, Stiles," his father said softly.

"Yeah, Dad, I did, but I missed you," Stiles replied smiling up at his father.

"I missed you, too."

Stiles continued to explain the t-shirts on the rest of the ride home. Allison's said something like 'Undesirable Number One,' Boyd and Isaac went in together to get 'Hard Ass' plastered on theirs, and Stiles saved his for last. He showed Jack the t-shirt when they stopped at a red light. It was neon green, something Jack had a feeling Derek wouldn't exactly like, and said 'I'm Creepy Get Over It' in bright red letters. Yeah, Derek definitely wouldn't like it.

When Jack parked his car in the driveway, Stiles' first words were, "Why's Derek's car here? Did something happen? Is he okay? Are you okay? What aren't you telling me?" Jack had a feeling the questions would have kept coming, had he not said, "Everyone is fine, but I do need to tell you something."

"What?" Wide, brown eyes rested on Jack's blue/green ones. "What do you need to tell me?"

"Let's go inside first," Jack suggested turning his car off. He pulled the keys from the ignition, got out of the car, and headed inside. He was very much aware of Stiles hurrying to catch up.

"Dad, seriously, if you two became BFFs while I was away, I just don't know what I'd do. I guess we could come up with a system so…" Stiles trailed off as they stepped inside, looking around for Derek. "Where is he? If you're going to blow my mind, and not in a good way, I want to give him his gift first."

"I'm in here," Derek called from the living room, "and I don't want another t-shirt."

"Well too bad, you're getting seven," Stiles retorted tossing the green one at Derek's head. Jack couldn't help smiling slightly, they really did act like brothers, and one of them didn't even know they were related; at least, not yet. _It's now or never Jack_, he thought with a small sigh.

"Stiles, maybe you should sit down," Jack suggested gesturing to the couch, sharing a quick look with Derek. The dark haired boy nodded once, though he still looked a little uncertain.

"Is it that bad? Well, whatever you need to tell me, get it over with. The others are coming over in a few to give you your…"

"Seriously, sit down," Derek grumbled yanking Stiles down, onto the couch. "And listen up.

"Stiles…" Jack started knowing he was in for a long weekend.


	8. Chapter 8

Was Stiles taking the news well? Sure he was, it's not every day he found out he had an older brother. An older brother he's known for the past year and a half. An older brother he helped frame for murder. An older brother who…

Oh, who the hell was he kidding? He was freaking the hell out. Derek Hale was his brother. Derek freaking Hale was his freaking brother. He needed a drink, a big ol' swig of jack, something to help him magically become okay with this.

He wasn't mad at his dad or anything. He wasn't even mad a Derek. His father hadn't cheated on his mother, and Derek couldn't control how he was conceived. Hell, Stiles wasn't even mad. Mostly he was shocked, a little upset, but nothing he couldn't handle once he wrapped his head around being related to Derek.

He still couldn't believe Derek was his brother. What had this world come to where he can't even escape the freaking guy outside of pack meetings and the odd team up? He should have just stayed in Chicago. It may have been more chaotic, but at least Stiles knew what he was walking into… half the time. Here, he was just freaking the hell out.

He sat on the roof, legs dangling off the side, looking down at the ground. He wondered if Derek and his dad knew something was wrong. He _did_ run out of the room pretty damn quickly, he may have locked his bedroom door behind him, and he may have been ignoring his dad as he tried to coax Stiles out of his room for the past twenty-five minutes. But he doubted they knew he wasn't taking the news well.

"I freaked out, too," a voice said and he jumped, whirling around to see Derek slowly walked towards him. Stiles should have known he'd use his stupid werewolf powers to get up here. Was this a normal brotherly relationship, being jealous of one brother because he had something the other brother secretly wanted? If so, Stiles figured they were off to a good start.

"I'm not freaking out," he lied, horribly, looked away from Derek, glaring at the ground again. "But if I were, I'd say that I can't believe you are my brother, and that the pack is going to flip when they find out. Oh, and that I'm a little surprised you admitted to freaking out."

"Anything else?" Derek asked taking a seat next to Stiles.

"That you better wear that damn t-shirt at least once," Stiles said quickly, swinging his legs. "And that you better not try to abuse your older brother powers because you already do that as an Alpha. Oh, and I am totally pissed that you told my… _our_ Dad about werewolves when I've been begging to do that for the past few months."

"Are you done?" Derek gave him a questioning look, irritation and amusement flickering across his face.

"I'm not even close to being done," Stiles snapped getting to his feet. "I have tons more to say. Starting with who the hell your mother is and when she and my dad met. Oh and how did you find out exactly? Dad just _saw_ the similarities. I mean, he's good but he's not _that_ good. Did you guys even remotely talk about a blood test? Werewolf DNA or not, it's still similar to human DNA, and I just…"

"And we'll explain everything," Sheriff Stilinski said from the open window. He turned, noticing the older man leaning over the sill, the bedroom door wide open. He must have picked the damn lock. Stiles really needed to ask him how to do that. "Just come inside." He turned to Derek. "How the hell did you get up here?"

"The drain pipe," he answered with a shrug, getting to his feet.

"Of course you did," their dad retorted trying and failing to sound nonchalant. "Get in here both of you before one of you falls off the roof and breaks their neck."

"Highly unlikely," Derek and Stiles said together, sharing a quick look, and then started towards the window. As their dad stepped away from the window to let them inside, Stiles had a feeling this wasn't going to be _so_ bad. At least _now_ Derek had to acknowledge him completely at the pack meetings. He was his little brother.

Holy crap, he was someone's little brother. This was going to take some getting used to, and maybe some research. How did someone go about being a little brother? He'd better break out the _Leave it to Beaver_ seasons. Did Netflix even _have_ Leave it to Beaver? Was that even appropriate research material? Why was he thinking about television? He needed help.

**The End…**

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**Let me explain. I am taking down the sequel because I have no interest in continuing it. So, I took the beginning of it, fixed the POV, and just added it to the original. It gives the story an ending and lets me take the sequel down.**

**So, thanks for reading the last chapter, sorry for the inconvenience, and leave me a comment if you haven't read it... or if you can.**

**See ya**

**P.S. Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story or the sequel. You guys are awesome.**


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